Robert Mills - Slut wife

Lois laughed. "I sure did. The first time I was so nervous that I forgot to take my pants off. The guy did it for me. He climbed up on me and pushed his cock into my cunt like he was afraid it would run away. It was wild, Melissa!"

They both laughed.

"How did J. D. take it?"

Lois put a finger to her lips. "He doesn't know, honey. Don't you tell him. He thinks I'm working in a nursery. You know, where they keep pre-school kids while the parents work."

"I won't breathe a word," Melissa promised. "Tell me all about it."

"It's at the Staircase. They have three little rooms and you take the john into one of them and ask what he wants. If he says massage, you give him a massage."

"Suppose he wants something else?" Lois shrugged. "You give him what he wants." "Can you make money.

"Sure. You get three dollars for a fifteen-minute massage, ten dollars for a blow job and whatever the guy will give you to let him fuck you."

"A hundred dollars?"

Lois shook her head. "Gosh no, honey. The guys usually offer twenty, thirty, sometimes even forty dollars. They don't have a lot of money, but they don't expect much either.

Forty dollars, Melissa mused. Think of that, laying down on a hard table and let a man stick his cock into you for a measly forty dollars. She had just turned down a job that paid three hundred and up.

"Sounds great," she said aloud. "Must be fun." "The old men are the best," Lois said. "They come in, looking all scared and worried because they don't know what it's about. When you get them in a room, they are too bashful to ask you to take your clothes off I gave one old guy a nude massage, then got on the table so he could eat my pussy. He lapped at it like he hadn't seen a cunt in ten years, then he tried to push his cock into me and it was so limp it wouldn't go. I gave him a local and it raised up and went poof. That was all."

Lois laughed, then lowered her voice. "I felt so sorry for him that I told him to keep the ten dollars. He was so pleased he was ready to cry."

She wiped a tear from her eye, caused by her laughter, then slid from the stool.

"Time's up, Melissa. I better get back. I have a one-thirty appointment, a salesman who wants to get his balls cracked this afternoon so he won't mess up a sales appointment tonight. Ain't that a kick!" She waved. "See ya!" She hurried out of the store.

At four-thirty, Mr. Sandino called.

"Sorry I missed you, Melissa. Had an important engagement. You know about the money, of course?"

"What money?" she asked.

"We let your husband win your money playing poker. He thinks he really won it and he won't need to know about you and me."

Melissa frowned. "I don't understand," she declared with mounting suspicion. "I earned the money, I want it myself."

"This is the same thing," Sandino said. "When your husband lost money, you worked to pay off his losses. This way he does it all and there's no problem. He's happy and so are we."

"I don't like it."

"Sometimes we can give you a little extra, to play along. Like Friday night."

"What's happening Friday night?"

"We have three bigwigs in from Phoenix and they want to have some fun. We can have dinner around seven, then go out to the club and swim. After that you can dance, then go to bed."

"No," Melissa said.

"You should have an enjoyable evening and everyone will be happy."

She thought about it for a moment, remembering the problems of keeping things from her husband.

"Martin won't stand for it," she said. "We usually go to a movie Friday night."

Sandino's voice came back bold and demanding. "Not this Friday. We have a big poker game scheduled and your husband will be one of the prime hands."

Melissa exploded in anger. "NO!" she snapped. "No! I won't let him do it."

Sandino was unfazed by her show of temper. "He could possibly win a thousand dollars, Melissa. Do you think he would be pleased to miss a game like that?"

Melissa was astonished. She hadn't known that so much money was possible.

"A thousand dollars," she repeated. "He could win that much?"

"We will make sure that he wins that much," Sandino said. "That's how much your fee will be for the party Friday night."

"I still can't do it."

"Why not?"

"Martin would want to know where I was going."

Sandino's voice chuckled in her ear. "He already knows about the party. • We mentioned that we would ask you to come so he could be free Friday night."

Melissa didn't know what to say. She stared dumbly at the wall.

Sandino continued. "He thinks you will be entertained to keep you happy during the game. If you like, it can break up at midnight or, if things go right, it can carry on until morning."

"Why so late?" she inquired.

"My clients like to drink, then they like to play. It could be a full night."

Melissa sighed. "Martin wouldn't know?"

"Not unless you tell him."

"And if I refuse?" she inquired.

The voice on the phone became even more firm. "In that case we will have to explain to Martin why he won five hundred dollars. I don't think he would like that."

Fear seized Melissa. She hadn't even considered that possibility. "I'm sure he wouldn't," she said in a humble voice.

"Be ready at seven. A car will pick you up and bring you to the club."

"I'll be ready," she agreed.

She put the phone back on the cradle.

What could she do now? If she went to the party, she was certain she would be fucked. If she refused, Sandino would tell Martin that he hadn't won any money, that it was money she had earned as a call girl. He would never understand such a situation. He might even divorce her and she couldn't let him do that. She loved Martin too much.

After two martinis Melissa decided that there wouldn't be any harm in going along with Sandino one more time.

The next two days went by so slowly that Melissa was thankful when Friday finally arrived.

She spent Friday morning thinking about the party and making certain that her dress fit properly. At five-thirty, Martin called saying he wouldn't be home for dinner and for her to go see a movie.

Melissa took this as a signal that all was clear and began to get ready for the evening. At seven o'clock, a black automobile rolled up to a spot just beyond the driveway and stopped. It remained silent, waiting.

She strode out, noting that the driver still had not emerged and assumed that such had been his instructions. He opened the front door, indicating she should sit beside him rather than in the back. She accepted the position, settling down into the soft upholstery.

"Sorry if I kept you waiting," she said quietly.

"No sweat," he answered.

His bold eyes appraised her tight see-through blouse, then his gaze shifted to the gap in the skirt and the shorts that showed through.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said simply.

It was almost dark when they entered the country-club driveway.

"Mr. Sandino said to bring you in the back way," the driver confided as they drove through the parking lot to a position at the rear of the building. "He didn't want you bothered by other guests."

Other guests, she assumed, meant Martin and his poker-playing friends.

She followed her guide in through the back door and down a service hallway where Sandino met them at the door of a reserved room.

It was extremely quiet, she noticed. The men who stood up to greet her appeared well to do. The looks on their faces, their clothing and the way they talked, indicated money. After the usual introductions, Sandino departed, leaving her in the companionship of her "date" for the evening.

He introduced himself as Thomas Durant and she was pleased that he liked her. He looked so fatherly, so friendly.

In the process of becoming acquainted, she found it easy to explain to Thm that she was married, no children, loved her husband and worked to help him acquire some of the luxuries he desired.